Welcome to the Anything and Everything Jersey and Winchester abuse case blog.
Please scroll past these initial links to get to the main blog or the post you have come to read.
This is a statement from last summer:
Here is a link to the four great letters:
Here is a collection of Open Letters:
Here is my psychological report from last year:
This is my Daily Blog running from October 2011 until now:
These are other people's blogs on my case:
The blog itself is quite broken up, not written in an ordered fashion, a bit mixed up, like I am, talking about Jersey, the Diocese and my life.
Thank you for reading my blog, please persevere if it is at a bitty phase, go back and find what you are looking for in older posts, use the search button, or look at the favourite posts and links in the side bars.
The blog is heavy, I know, but the case is complex and the reality is that it has always been beyond me to get past the trauma and tell my story, so I am doing my best, in bits, to do so, as well as sharing related articles and links.
- I was abused in the Church of England as a vulnerable adult aged 19.
- I was abused by the husband of a vicar who was also my counsellor, this vicar took me home as a replacement for her stepdaughter who her husband, the girl's father, had abused and abandoned.
- I was further abused by another church officer.
- The church tried to close my complaints down, refused to deal with them and left both abusers and those who stood up for them in church positions.
- The church got me a criminal record for speaking up, they claimed I was harassing them.
- I had never been in police trouble before, but as a result, I lost my home and job, and was left on the streets, injured by the police and severely traumatized.
- Last year, years too late and the other side of me being destroyed, and while I was still homeless and destitute, the church launched on me in the National press, claiming to apologize.
- They also launched in the press, a 'report' into what had happened. This report was hideously inaccurate although it did show how members of church had abused process in not dealing with my complaint.
- The report, although not naming me, made it quite easy for me to be identified, I was one of very few autistic 33 year old women in the UK on the streets, and enough people who I met and was looked after by, knew who the report was about, and I lost friends and was shunned as a result.
- I also had strangers condemning and maligning me, it was heartbreaking.
- Then a church officer associated with my abuser, also in government, released my name and breached the data protection act.
- As a result of the Press reports and the report released, an all-out war broke out between the Diocese and Deanery involved, with me caught in the middle, I was slandered, I was smeared, I was condemned.
- The Church offered no help and I became ill as each new inaccurate report and cover up came out, each new damnation of me.
- New investigations were comissioned, and one was blatantly conflicted, to be carried out by a member of the group who supported the wrongdoers.
- I have been excluded from all reports, which, to save the church, are whitewashes which cover up the original admissions of wrongdoing.
- The church have treated me coldly, threatened me, despite them having me illegally traced by police, and have not helped me, instead they made illegal referrals of me to what they called help, without my consent and without checking it would help or what I wanted.
- I have pleaded with them to stop the harm to me, but to no avail, and I am living in fear, severely traumatized and knowing I cannot withstand the damning press reports and whitewashes forever.
Friday, 12 February 2016
Just when you thought I would never actually write anything on here again :)
Can you all make sure our uncle Bob is OK? I was having nightmares about him.
The JEP, which I only glance at, because who in their right mind reads that rag, especially after their attacks on me? Have been running a lot of stories about the Care Inquiry this evening.
So, I will start, Headline read 'Stuart Syvret was right to be concerned'
It made me think.
Was it Frank Walker who recently commented on Stuart's change in demeanor when he made the abuse discoveries?
I recall that clique of politicians making him out to be mad in 2008/9.
Just like they made me out to be mad.
I am pretty sure even before the injustices and imprisonments, from the time Stuart discovered the abuse, he would have been suffering Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. He never makes a fuss about himself and his health publicly, but he isn't mad, and believe it or not, neither am I.
I was already horrifically damaged when the churchwarden 'regressed' me to childhood and abused me, claiming it would 'heal' me, and the ensuing horrific police and church actions, not properly recorded, added to that, and then Fisher decided to persist in destroying me, culminating in the Korris attack and the public destroyal of me.
Stuart has been ripped apart by the press and media too, but at least he spoke up, and he should be able to speak to the care inquiry without fearing for his life.
I still fear for my life.
Islands, boats and missing boys:
I am going to be controversial from now on and I am going to talk about Adrian Lynch. I really hope no-one gets angry over this.
We know that Ted Heath used to take boys out on boats, and a witness, Linda Corby, says she saw that one less boy came back one time,
Some years ago, a young man, Damien Nettles, vanished from Cowes on Hampshire's Isle of Wight, he was never seen or heard from again, and the police messed up the investigation, couldn't even get Damien's age right and considered him to be an adult, not a minor as a result, leading to delays in investigation. Appeals have been made continuously over the years regarding his disappearance, although efforts to prevent digging in the nearby Parkhurst Forest have been solid despite a tip off that Damien may be buried there.
I read about this case as his mother posts on the 'Good Cop Down' blog written by a Hampshire Police Officer who knows as well as I do how corrupt and nasty and brutal Hampshire Constabulary are.
Recently the sad news of Adrian Lynch (I hope I spelled that right) going missing reminded me of the Damien Nettles case.
My thoughts are with both families, I may be autistic and with reactive attachment disorder but I know what love feels like, and I know I love my parents and my recently deceased friend and I know what missing people and grief feels like.
And when you don't know what happened it must be worse.
But what I feel is, these two dissapearances involve young men, islands and, I think they involve boats, but neither island has a good, honest or caring police force.
Did Hampshire or Jersey Constabulary check boat movements? Or is it even possible to check all boat movements? Do they all show up on AIS? I don't think the small ones do.
I know Cathy Fox and others do blogs about the boat kidnap and slavery/exploitation trade.
What if that is relevant here?
What if I get absolutely slaughtered for putting two and two together and getting 5.375?
Saturday, 23 January 2016
The Bishop of London, famous for his unChristian attitude to Occupy London protesters and his purple socks, says that Vicars should grow beards to reach out to muslims.
What about the lady vicars? :) do you think if they grew beards, they would reach out to muslims?
It's personal choice.
Grow a beard if you wish, but I will continue to be clean shaven while respecting Muslim culture and beliefs.
And what about Jewish people, does the Bishop want to reach out to them too?
Then he adds worldly rubbish about David Beckham, glorifying a plastic chav and calling him a saint! This truly is the Church of England!
Well, every time I think the Church has reached a new low for the sake of publicity, I am surprised again.
Someone has just suggested female Vicars should wear Burkas.
Friday, 22 January 2016
.................................. but seeing as I am being creative and this song was one of my first Jersey soundtrack songs........................................
Sunday, 17 January 2016
Thursday, 14 January 2016
The Dean has a whole lot more than homophobia to apologise for, including destroying me to cover his own back, and also allowing Gavin Ashenden to go on behaving appallingly.
When Women Bishops were voted in, the Dean and other people who were against women Bishops, were included in the countrywide campaign of frothy notices and announcements about how pleased they were that women Bishops had been voted in.
So presumably the homophobic Dean has been beamed his message from Canterbury to trot out, while Ashenden doesn't listen to much apart from the voices in his head these days. So they are giving out opposing messages and neither because they care about homosexual people.
As for being welcome in Jersey churches, you have to be rich and/or narrowminded.
I would like someone to volunteer to go to the town church and announce their gay wedding please.
Wednesday, 13 January 2016
I have to say it is apt.
Primates conjours up an image of apes, scratching and grunting.
Yes. I like the CofE having a primates meeting, swinging from tree to tree and pissing on the zoo bars. Very apt and suitable.
Unfortunately they are more likely to piss out propaganda for the gullible to swallow.
Apparently attendance in the CofE has fallen to less than a million, which begs the question - DO WE REALLY HAVE ALMOST A MILLION RICH, ARROGANT AND GULLIBLE OLD PEOPLE IN THIS COUNTRY WHO WE CAN'T OTHERWISE OCCUPY IN USEFUL AND ALTRUISTIC WAYS?!
Anyway, I like Peter Broadbent's take on it Justin Welby 'alledgedly' gave a very good speech that told us all where we are'
I was unclear as to if the 'aledgedly' referred to the speech not neccessarily being Welby's own original material, or if Broadbent simply couldn' be bothered to attend or listen to the speech? The tone points to the former.
At least the Church are giving us a laugh, although the damage they do far outweighs that.
Thursday, 7 January 2016
Monday, 4 January 2016
Due to the incredible increase in views of this blog, obviously due to Ashenden behaving badly (or acting out his insanity) I decided to update this post from a while back:
Well, Gavin Ashenden is performing in the spotlight again.
He is apparently in the National press with his recent opinion on Islam.
I know he reads my blog, usually from the safety of Yemen or Normandy, but I know he won't mind me blogging about him, as he is never averse to maligning me or hurting other people's feelings.
Some peaople might expect me to write an open letter, about how he shouldn't be telling Muslims how to live when he hasn't worked out what Christianity is all about yet, But actually, he can make enough of a fool of himself and the church without my help.
Peacekeeper from Yemen, trouble stirrer from Jersey.
Do you remember Pepper Anne?
'...He's his own biggest fan...
Here is the recent Story of Ashenden and Islam, as told by a Jersey Blogger:
Afterthought on Islam from me.
I do not like the way the media are playing up these stories of young people being radicalised. It is scaremongering. The Churchwarden's wife used to include in her daily fears that we were going to taken over by Muslims and it would be awful for us women.
I used to live among Muslims. They were peaceful, respectful and had good senses of humour, their beliefs lead them to have a set of ethics, something that Catholics and Buddhists have but the Church of England lacks.
Gavin Ashenden saw an advert in the church rag (Times) and it said 'Come and work where clergy discipline cannot reach you! Golden sand, corruption, old boys and favours in kind'.
So he went to work in Jersey.
It is a puzzle then why he is trying to take over in Normandy!
Further Ashenden reading and links for recent viewers after his most recent rantings.
Friday, 1 January 2016
Thank you to the Ark for looking after him. RIP.
Thursday, 31 December 2015
July:I had a sad start when I was told that the car I had been offered on loan was not available. I didn't blog this as I was afraid that talking about any possible progress in my life would trigger a vengeful attack by Jane Fisher, who is a very jealous lady and spent so much time destroying me and everything I had built up in my past life.
Anyway, life went on, struggling to get to work and carry tools and equipment on the bus, although my friend helped me out with lifts wherever she could.
The blue bike was also complicating things by playing up at this point.
I continued physiotherapy and sea swims but wasn't paying any attention to diets and gym.
What I wrote on July 13th 2015 is so profound that I thought I may as well add it in here:
This is the song that reminds me of the summer of 2015, although it comes from the sad circumstances of Pheobe's funeral in Hollyoaks.
Hollyoaks became my best way of chilling out after a hard day at work early on in 2015.
It is shallow and not always well-researched, but even my adoptive Mum says there is nothing wrong with something like Hollyoaks to help me relax and take my mind off things.
I never thought I would be a soap fan.
Through the year I had been occasionally remembering to go out with my mates to cinema and other events, but not often, especially as money was tight. I started pen pal letters as a safe and easy form of armchair socialising, not sure what the armchair thought, but I still enjoy penpalling very much and my pen pals are like real friends. A lot of shy people or people who find socialising difficult find pen palling a good way of socialising.
On 16th/17th July, life changed again.
I had put a bit of money aside from tax credit backlog. And I saw a car on the local marketplace site. I decided that this car was either too good to be true or perfect for me when I read the advert.
So my long-suffering friend came out in the evening and drove me to look at this car.
My last car in Jersey after Anna's demise had been a bum steer, so I was quite worried about buying a car. I had been having refresher lessons in July due to the fact I hadn't driven since Jersey. But I was very wary of re-introducing things into my life that had been left behind in Jersey. On the other hand due to my work, there was no way I could go on paying for expensive bus passes for unreliable buses. The only was was forward now.
So the day I went to the cinema with my mate to see 'Self/less' which you know is now my favourite DVD, F.P Nortycar, otherwise known as Florence, became my car. I was nervous from the start, an old car like Florence, even though she is a Peugeout, is a constant worry as to how long she will last and when she might break down, I just look after her as best I can.
I was very nervous to drive her at first and the night we collected her, my friend came back with me on that first drive, with her family following behind and guarding us from impatient cars.
Florence broke down two days after I got her. Norty little madam that she is.
For two weeks I was undecided as to what to do, money was low and to even have her towed would be expensive, I didn't have any car equipment and no mobile mechanic was available, while no-one I knew had any mechanical experience. I felt stupid and awful.
She broke down on the morning I was due to go to see my new therapist, so I grabbed my bike and ran for it.
I got to my therapy on time and my therapist is still my therapist, isn't he a brave man?
After almost two weeks, everyone in my life was telling me to contact the car's previous owners and ask them if they knew what might have gone wrong and if they had any jump leads.
I still didn't know if they had sold me a pup at this point and was nervous. But I contacted them. They came round promptly with jump leads, it turned out he was a skilled mechanic and knew this car very well, he discovered that it wasn't the battery, but the ignition amplifier had failed, he replaced it, and he became the car's best friend, assisting with any problems, he had probably been maintaining this car for years, hence it being in such good shape. But now with the car back on the road, I suddenly regained confidence and the memory of driving before.
By now I was already doing study preparation for University, which was due to start in October.
I was also addicted the 'Humans' series on Channel 4, and I have the DVDs now.
The weather in July was good, and I biked and swam and enjoyed BBQs and Bonfires.
My first music exam must have been in the summer, but I can't find it in the blog.
August:Well, August started with a bang. My landlady's daughter had moved herself in and then the landlady suddenly said she was moving a family with children in and we could like it or leave. A family with children would be impossible for me to live with, so I started to search for somewhere else, very upset.
I soon found the flat I am now in, and it was unfurnished so I had to look at furnishing it before I moved in.
I also started doing the paper rounds by car as I was now covering extra rounds.
I proceeded with the move to the flat. The upheaval left me unsettled as I had expected to stay where I was longer. Thankfully my friend helped me through the bewilderment and emptiness with tea and sympathy.
The rest of August was spent on trying to furnish the flat and make it into home. I was now completely independent and self-contained, all bills and responsibilities were mine. But at least I was no longer doing all the housework for a whole house.
Unfortunately the house move and moving heavy furniture, while also helping another family move, led to me tearing a muscle in my shoulder, which took a long slow time to mend.
The move to the flat took me some distance from the paper shop, and trying to do the papers by bike was no longer working, so I went by car every day. Then I was offered the rural routes for more money, and the car was essential. I was now having to get up very early in order to get to the paper shop for 6.30 and get the paper bundle to the rural distributor before doing my new rounds.
September:September started with my adoptive Mum coming over for the Royal Inspection of the flat. She approved.
Then the sofa bed saga occured. I had been sleeping on the floor of the flat when I moved in, and because the flat is small, I thought a sofa bed would be good. But the sofa bed was so uncomfortable that I didn't sleep well, my friend brought camping mattresses round and that helped a bit, but now getting up early, still unsettled in the new place and not sleeping well, it was all putting stress on me, my injured shoulder was also suffering from the sofa bed.
The doctors had put me on codeine for my shoulder and I was even more ill.
After a while I had to beg the local welfare scheme for help, and they had a bed delivered promptly, God bless them.
I also decided I needed just a few days off from doing the papers, and that was a lifesaver, I slept in and felt better.
On Friday September 11th, my friend came round to my flat, she was worried about me being ill and she had brought me another camping mattress to make sure I was comfy.
She was coughing, she thought she had a chest infection and she was considering seeing the doctor as it hadn't cleared up.
Unfortunately it wasn't a chest infection. And it wasn't pneumonia, which was the next guess.
The next thing I heard was that she was in hospital.
She was terminally ill and the illness had crept in and got a hold. Already there was little they could do.
Florence P. Nortycar also tried to quit life at this point, she blew her head gasket and that was nearly the end of her, thankfully her best friend was prepared to fix her. She was off the road for 10 days though so I couldn't do the rural routes and had to just bike round my old round instead.
My dental problems continued and I was increasingly unhappy about that.
I ended September by nominating the Bishop of Winchester as spiritual guide for the envoy to Mars.
October:October is anniversary month, so it can be gloomy. I did what I do every year regarding one anniversary, the one where I was left destroyed and homeless by the Church of England. I went to Southampton airport, and walked down to collect myself from arrivals.
Now I was also officially starting university, having started studying in preparation in July.
My friend came home from hospital and she seemed happy but tired, she said she didn't mind dying, but of course I minded that she was dying.
Up until this point the Church of England had been fairly quiet except for a jeer about 'God's people being safe in the churches in Jersey' well what about the normal people and the vulnerable? With a paedophile protector as lay chair of the Jersey synod and my abuser still lauded and upheld while I was destroyed, real people aren't safe in Jersey's churches and I was left shocked and distressed by Bishop Willmott's duplicitous statement,
But now the Jersey Deanery, led by their 'lay chair' attacked with full force, stomping like two year olds and demanding their whitewash report again, and abusing the press and media in order to get themselves heard.
The press and media and random strangers in turn abused me over this matter.
This continued into November, seriously disrupting my university studies and music studies.
Thre DWP, HMRC and council also decided to bombard me with rubbish and confusing stuff at this point too.
The bad anniversaries coninued with the church attacks.
It was a horrible October and November.
November:Early in November, very ill from the onslaught by the Jersey Deanery, and also now physically ill as well, I went to sit another music exam. The church hatred and onslaught had trashed my revision but I decided to sit the exam anyway.
I really couldn't tell how well I had done at the time. But my adoptive Mum met me outside the exam hall and took me to lunch and we had fun at one of my old favourite cafes, before I proceeded to do something that is omitted from this blog much as most of the Jersey Deanery onslaught is, I just really wanted to blog as normal and say nothing.
After I left my Mum when we finished lunch, I drove to Winchester.
Winchester was quiet and normal, and as usual I tried to get over the feeling of sickness and disgust that is the legacy of the way Jane Fisher and Michael Scott-Joynt destroyed and defamed and drove me from my home town humiliated and destroyed.
Today was a triumph over their sickening exile of me from my home town and loved ones.
I walked up to the Broadway.
There weren't many people yet.
I got my wristband and I waited.
People began to gather.
It began to get dark and the atmosphere began to build.
I was restless and excited as I always have been.
I got my firebrand, I was a bit too eager, I lit it while others were keeping theirs unlit.
I realised I was too early so I put it out again.
I waited, and there was plenty of space to move around, and it got later, things were running late now, firebrands were being lit.
The crowd gathered and increased, and more people asked to light their firebrand from mine, the more people who ask you for a light for their firebrands, the luckier you will be.
And then we were off, walking up the hight street with our brands, looking back at the line of lights following.
I raise my firebrand high in the air and joyful as the flame burns bright:
Winchester, my heart, my home my heritage!
Nothing they do can take you from my heart!
Nothing they can do can take you from my heart!
Winchester, my Heart, my Home, my Heritage!
We proceed round onto Jewry Street, the noise, the lights, the crowds, my heritage, my memory, all I ever knew. The crowds who split onto George Street rejoin us as we walk to the halted traffic on City Road and round down onto North Walls.
Those years ago, North Walls was free, but because of council regulations, they have to charge now. But it doesn't matter, it is still North Walls. We stream in onto the field, the floodlights partially light the field, and all around the edges are the food vans and attractions as the atmosphere builds and people begin queueing.
There is a sad empty space beside me for the people who used to be there with me, should still be there, but the diocese took them away.
But North Walls is immortal and beyond the vengeful rage of Jane Fisher.
The bonfire and fireworks are awesome, of course.
And then I head home.
North Walls of the past (scroll down the post a bit):
I found a new dentist who has been repairing my teeth very well.
Then the world shattered.
Bob Hill collapsed, presumably with the stress of his battle with Philip Bailhache and the press and media and Church of England over my case. I had been begging him to back down and leave the case alone but Bob was a law unto himself. He collapsed and for a few days I didn't know if he was still alive or if he had ever woken.
In that time I kept a candle burning, the guiding light to draw him off the ghost roads, and I offered God my life in return for his.
This song became 'Bob's Theme' as I waited to find out what had happened. All I could do was fight for his life in prayer and spirit. It is true he hurt me badly, but he had my welfare at heart.
When I saw Bob, he was awake, lucid and with some movement, he understood some of what I said but he had no ability to speak, which broke my heart as he had spoken for me, and had been speaking in my defence when he collapsed and I believe it is why he collapsed.
I wish him a speedy recovery.
In his collapse he also saved my life again, because I ended up at the hospital with a blood pressure reading of 180/113. I didn't know how ill I was until Bob collapsed.
I have been under constant and severe stress for so long, my blood pressure has to be regulated and medicated, and as a result I am trying to live very healthily, with a vegeterian diet and no cows milk, regular diet and fitness appointments and trips to the gym.
I blame the Church of England for ruining Bob's retirement, they refused to give him a hearing on my behalf and went on and on attacking my life, so a good man ended up ruined.
The darkness and distress and horror went deep, and despite the state I was in, the NHS refused to help me properly, and I had been forced to stop seeing my therapist due to the church crisis and lack of money as the gardening season went down and I struggled to find replacement work while I was in the awful state that the church left me in.
I was missing the cranky old cat from the old house so I got a new pet, remember him?
I started a delivery driving job, which lasted a month. They overworked me and didn't pay me.
But I started it on November 24th and quit at 11pm on December 24th when they weren't paying me so december was so thin and horrible and they wanted me to keep working on Christmas eve and not go to midnight mass and they were rude about my faith. That is the tip of the iceberg, I never wrote it in the blog because I like you to think everything is OK as much as possible.
My response to their crass behaviour on Christmas eve night? 'The Baby Jesus comes first you stupid f*ckers!'.
I worked willingly even though they made me work all the time, changed my start times every day, and really were not nice.
I have had so many instances in my life of staying in miserable and abusive situations, most notably in the church of England, that I am having to learn not to be afraid to break free quickly no matter what the cost. As my former psychologist said, I am easily exploited. I hate that.
Anyway, onwards into december.
December:A positive start with a good needs assessment that recommended support and communication technology.
Then more worrying news.
My adoptive parents started having health scares, so my Mum couldn't come over and help me with the net curtains.
The car had a service and some work that needed doing was flagged up, so the car's best friend did some of the work.
I then made another journey. And as I said on the blog 'Road to hell' comes to mind.
I felt very sad that due to the people I was delivery driving not paying me, I was left unable to prepare for Christmas or help with shoebox appeals or toy appeals or anything, those things are part of my Christmas, but with barely enough money to feed the electric meter, I could do nothing.
My phone got broken and I had no money to repair it, which added to the chaos.
I managed to enjoy local carols and Christmas tree festivals and temporarily joined a church as I missed the church at Christmas too much.
To add to the thin and unhappy time, my friend who is terminally ill was deteriorating, and we didn't know if she would make it to Christmas. But she wanted me there on Christmas day, if she was still there. This was really hard to live with.
I had some early Christmad presents including a wonderful tv/dvd player from my friends who I did some work shifts for, as they were relocating.
Then my customers on the rural paper routes started giving me Christmas cards and tips, so I started to be able to feed the electic meter and get Christmas things.
I got conjunctivitis just to add to everything.
Then I was offered a local paper round that I can do on the blue bike, because I think the very early starts and distances and wear and tear may not be good for me and Florence, so a local round by bike may be easier.
I managed to see my Mum and a few old friends for a pre-Christmas visit although it was a bit rushed due to everything I needed to do before Christmas now that I had got a bit of money.
I am blessed that someone heard I was struggling and sent me paypal money just by having my email address. I didn't know people could do that! :)
Hint hint, feel free to test it out.
The Christmas tree got decorated on December 19th, much too late as far as I am concerned, I like a tree from the beginning of december, I like the lights and decorations.
I am very happy to have so many Christmas cards this year, coming out of the darkness and into the light again maybe? I wish I could think I can keep this life and continue to build but I live in fear of being destroyed, imprisoned and killed by the Church of England.
Despite everything, the Christmas atmosphere has been good, the delivery work and papers in the dark with the carols playing on the car CD player, the cards and the lights and the presents and the food in the end. And the tv and DVDs, and my foster-church.
I also went out for a lovely Christmas meal with my mates.
My friend rallied a bit in the week before Christmas and I knew she would be there on Christmas Day.
The weather turned bad just before Christmas. And the local party was dampened.
I had agreed to work on Christmas Eve, Boxing Day, NewYears Eve and Day and was surprised that they also put me on the rota for all other days without a break.
On Christmas eve night things got too much, I was tired of the way I was being treated, and when they left me as the sole driver and tried to make me stay on and on and work after 11pm when I was due to stop and go to Midnight Mass, an argument broke out.
I was left very upset but I quit. And I am glad I did, I won't be exploited any more.
I was crying as I went to Mass, but I found the service comforting.
I got home at 2am on Christmas morning and slept peacefully into Christmas Day.
We had a lovely Christmas Day and my friend was happy, she enjoyed her last Christmas with all her family there, and they looked after me well and it was lovely. She made an effort to live to see it. Now she sleeps a lot and hasn't got long to live.
On Monday I went to spend the day with a disabled friend who is alone and without carers over Christmas, I cooked him a full Christmas dinner and we had a great day. So lucky me, I have had TWO Christmas Days! How greedy can you get?!
I have had a peaceful holiday of tv and DVDs, walks by the sea and quiet time here. I have been covering extra rounds for the paper shop though.
And I am already starting my next music course, I am self-taught at the moment but putting in for exams is easy. On Christmas Eve I got the results of the exam that the church disrupted, I passed. I also have my next wave of assignments for university to work on, and I am hoping the Church of England doesn't further disrupt my course.
It is hard to be optimistic about 2016, I am under too much strain from the Church of England and other areas and I need to find more work. However, all I can do is try to hold my head up and face the future bravely and fight for things to get better. As I hope I have done this year.
Happy New Year everyone! :):):) Blessings and prayers for a better year all round.
Wednesday, 30 December 2015
Well Januaries are bleak, January 2015 was very bleak.
In January I was ill in a freezing cold house with no hot water or heating, I was very ill with chest infections, while a drunk antisocial person illegally moved themselves into the house without the landlord's consent while he was away, and I was threatened. I had no money and was ill and had just moved from another terrible lodging house that I had moved to in a hurry when my lovely flat was condemned (not this flat, the other one).
So, no money, ill and in an unstable situation, could it get worse? Well yes, the Deanery of Jersey decided they wanted their whitewash report released and decided to attack in the press and media again, leaving me destroyed and devastated all over again.
And apparently their reasoning was that 'The Dean wanted to see their carefully engineered report before his friend the Leiutenant-Governor sent him off on holiday to America for three months at tax-payers expense. He can't send him to the UK because as soon as the Dean resides in the UK he will be taken to court, but that is by the by. The attack woke me from my stupor to produce several Open Letters:
Another reason for the Jersey Deanry's renewed attack was that Michael Birt, one of the Town Church Clique and also the retiring bailiff in January, abused his power without stating his place in the church, to demand the release of the conflicted report done by his colleague, Dame Heather Steel.
Just reading through last January, I actually went to Winchester and served...presumably the 'Resign' letter on Bishop Dakin? Although it wasn't published on Open Letter until February 21st: http://www.opnlttr.com/letter/letter-jane-fisher-and-bishop-tim-dakin
During January 2015, I had decided that due to the horrendous poverty that meant I couldn't afford Christmas or a haircut or shoes, and which kept me in bad accommodation where I was abused and at risk, one step from rough sleeping all the time, it was time for me to return to work.
I was also, despite the circumstances, making some sort of a partial recovery from the severe trauma that had meant I was unemployable.
Unfortunately my return to work was delayed and disrupted by the DWP/Jobcentre's refusal to support me or respond to my need for supported phased return to work.
However, having decided to see if I was fit for work, I immediately started working in a Charity shop, a job that I continued for some months. This started to boost my confidence and get me out of the unhealthy house, which I was housekeeping for men who did drugs and drank and really couldn't be bothered to think about other people.
You can actually tell how ill and in a mess I was if you look at January's blog.
However, in January I got a music keyboard, a good one, and started to regain my music dreams, although at the time I mentioned that regaining anything from Jersey or before can cause trauma and despair because of what was taken from me then and how regaining any of it feels useless.
My bike was sabotaged in January, which made me sad, that someone could deliberately hurt my bike and put my life in danger.
In January I was still attending 'Horse Therapy' but it was very institutional and autocratic, and we weren't even allowed to touch the horses most of the time, we were just used to carry out stable tasks, and it was not the true 'horse thereapy' to help with emotions that I had hoped for, so before long I quit.
Most of my other activities had been stalled at this point by crisis, illness and lack of money, so no gym, swim, health and fitness or social activities, and unfortunately I let this lapse continue even when things got better.
Now preparing to further my preparation for return to work with volunteer gardening, I was doing well working for the charity shop, and planning to donate the proceeds of my next sponsored walk to them, having changed the walk from the traditional pre-Christmas to start on Easter Monday instead.
I was obviously distressed and dispairing at this point and life was grim, but I proceeded in trying to improve it.
Throughout January and February I was ill, depressed and also suffering constant chest infections in the cold unheated house with no hot water.
Then things changed for the better slightly.
I managed to get a room in a house share in the town where I felt 'at home' having been forced to leave by my old flat being condemned. My friend helped me to move house and my adoptive mum came over to help with the packing, it felt like a really dark time was over.
I started to feel better and more hopeful now, and saw this as a semi-long-term move until I could get another flat or bedsit.
I also started using saline and tonic to try to get over the exhausting chest infections, and eventually they did clear.
My new houseshare had a cat, who became a great companion and comfort to me, although he had a wicked and sudden temper and would lash out for no reason.
There was an earthquake in Winchester, which, after the floods, should have given Bishop Dakin a hint, but it didn't. He is rather lacking in hint-taking ability.
February was unremarkable apart from the move to a better place.
March:March blew in, and life changed again.
I continued to work in the charity shop while continuing to progress back towards work.
I began work on the volunteer gardening team, this was to see if I could ever regain the strength and proficiency to be a gardener.
To my surprise despite finding the work painful and exhausting I made good progress and was usually left to work alone on the grounds of this prestigious local attraction.
The Bishop of Winchester was politely requested to provide me with a donkey for Palm Sunday because I believed he and the Church would kill me this year, after all, I was 33 and had spent three years wandering homeless and taking potshots at the pharisees in the Church of England. Sadly the Bishop has been all lala ears since I took him to court, and he didn't want to play.
My eagerness to work led to me working on my Birthday when I had a migraine because I was on a work trial, it spolied my Birthday, especially as the job was not suitable, it was a sweat shop job where I was the only English person, it was a massive vegetable growing plant, but it was nothing to do with horticulture really, it was more to do with production, the conditions were bad, the heat was dreadful and the conditions, such as geting there for 7am, were simply not meetable in my case before I started driving again.
However, I was not put off from seeking work, especially I was having such a harsh time with the DWP and was in such poverty.
So I attended a job interview, was shortlisted but didn't get the job, but considering where I was coming from, the fact I was shortlisted and had such a good interview.
As another wave of damage from the DWP came, I quit benefits because the stress was making me so ill, and I proceeded to register as self-employed, merriting me a double load of stress from the DWP and HMRC. What a nightmare! However, I had no choice but to persevere, now marginally fit for work and simply not able to go on living in a kind of poverty where I couldn't afford clothes or shoes or a haircut.
My church attendance was tailing off now because the trauma of the Church of England just got too much.
That is about it for March.
AprilI kept the tradition of the Passover meal at the beginning of April.
Then I went through the motions of celebrating Easter.
On Easter Monday I started my annual sponsored walk. The weather was ideal, warm and sunny but sometimes windy, so I got wind burned.
The walk helped me mentally as I was alone in beautiful landscape, in the lovely sunshine. It was harsh physically as my physical state is pretty rubbish.
My friend dropped me off, collected me, brought refreshments and encouraged me each day, and it was the best sponsored walk I have ever done.
I had a bad Grand National and a Bad Oxford and Cambridge race this year :( even worse that my boss at the charity shop was an Oxford fan and he told me there was no doubt that they would win!
I continued self-taught music theory and practice and had lessons when I could afford it. My practice exams were distinction level.
I was now picking up work, gardening and holiday cleaning changeovers.
And of course I started the immortal paper rounds, biking round town with my sack of papers on my back in the early morning sunlight, heaven.
I was having an ongoing bad time with dental work from a bad dentist but at the time felt so grateful to get any treatment that I didn't complaint, as our district has very little NHS cover.
That was all for Ap
The General election went ahead with dissappointing results, the CofE pretty much swing it by telling their clergy and staff who to vote for in the church propaganda rag. (Church Times).
May was quiet but for constant tension and fear about the Church. I continued to build up my work.
Now that I had some money coming in, I started going to car boot sales again. This made me happy, the luxury of actually being able to get books and odds and ends for myself felt amazing, you have no idea what the grinding poverty of living on benefits is like unless you have experienced it!
June:This month I started being sent 'interview questions' as members of the public had only been hearing the Church's side of my story. This was interesting and all interview questions and answers are up on the blogs still.
Elizabeth Hall, the famous uncoverup leader and protector of abusers in the Church of England made a swift and silent exit in the Church's new trend of removing female safeguarding officers and replacing them with men.
I started another course of physiotherapy to help with my legs. It was very nice and the physio helped.
I was now sea swimming every day again.
And as I had done with previous houses, I was doing all the housework and care of the place, which was too much for me.
I was also going through the complex inaccessible university and student loans applications, preparing, despite the risk from the church, to start university.
Then more Church rubbish hit, and left me very distressed.
I backed Golden Horn in the Derby, but to be honest, that was a given.
Then I went away for a working holiday. It was hard work, it had good and bad elements.
At this point some worry and effort went into safely restoring me to having a full driving licence, which I had been afraid would never happen. What happened to me was that I had been on a Jersey licence when I was dumped destitute on the street in 2010, and my licence was lost or stolen on the streets, leaving me unable to resolve it as you are not allowed to get a UK licence without a permenant address and the matter was so complex that it couldn't be resolved.
Thankfully the licence was resolved this year after a lot of paperwork, stress and worry.
I guess that is all for June. You have watched me rebuild so much of what was taken from me, within the first six months of this year, and unaided.
I am resting in bed with a huge stack of pillows propping me up.
I stumble on my usual New Year's revolution, to convert the diocese of winchester/CofE to Christianity, as so far I am failing badly, they become more duplicitous and bigoted and out of touch with reality with every passing year, and sending them Bibles is so expensive. So I will give up on that one.
The difference between revolutions and resolutions is that you should keep resolutions secret like Birthday candle wishes, but revolutions are to share.
- To go on fighting for good health and help
- To get some writing done (nice and vague)
- To be assertive
- To study well and do as much in advance as possible to prevent the church trashing my course again with their silly press games.
- To go on rebuilding my life if the church or their police don't kill me
- To tell my story, which will lead to the police and church killing me of course.
- To continue with my music
- To get a decent part time job to support me through my studies.
Well, to be honest, that is the extent of the New Year's revolutions. The next post may well be the look back at the year. Today's normal daily post was posted before this one on Life After the Diocese, and on The Anythings and Everything Blog the previous post was about coke in Cathedrals :)
Monday, 28 December 2015
Until the Sun made a random attack on Churches for no reason whatsoever.
We always wondered why
the choirboys sing so high
the congregation's faint and swoons
the Holy Spirits sudden visits
and the missing teaspoons
we thought tea was served after the service
but that isn't sugar on the tray
it isn't the communion wine
that makes the Deans face shine
or blows the visiting Bishop away.
Thursday, 24 December 2015
I will pray for the thing that is most on my mind first. Travel and the weather.
Dear Lord and Father, protect us all as we travel in this weather, especially those heading to friends and family now, and those of us working and going to midnight services tonight while others may have been drinking and the roads are so wet. Amen
I pray for all those who will be celebrating Christmas with alcohol, that they stay warm, well and safe. Amen
I pray for all people in povery or alone this Christmas, I will never forget my years with nothing at Christmas and worse, when friends made excuses and turned away. I pray for some hope for those people, for others to reach out with kindness, I pray that everyone has food and more than usual and hope and help and kindness. God bless them, amen.
I pray for any child without presents, that from somewhere, gifts will come. Amen
I pray for any child or adult who is facing a miserable christmas due to abuse or neglect, for freedom and hope. Amen
I pray especially for the homeless, the rough sleepers who have two choices if they are sleeping rough and can't access any shelter while everything is closed, they can walk and walk or they can sit in a blanket and try to keep warm. Neither are comfortable options. And the homeless in hostels or staying with others or squatting, not really home, guests where the rules hurt and where Christmas isn't a real joy. And especially families with Children. I remember and never forget, that I have lived like this. God help them. Amen
I pray for anyone struggling for electricity or warmth this Christmas, God help them. Amen
I pray for everyone who has been supporting me this year as the Church and States of Jersey continue to destroy me unchecked. Especial blessings on the Lantern bearer who helped me to walk through the dark and back into the light. It isn't over yet. Amen
I pray for Bishop Dakin in the wake of his recent open homophobia that adds to his crimes against me, I pray that he both repents and realises that he is not a Christian leader and thus steps down. 'Let he who is without sin cast the first stone'. Amen
On that note I pray for the Archbishop in the same way, as his recent use of homelessness as a Church Press Stunt when he and his church left me homeless and destroyed is very distressing. God send the homeless to live in Lambeth Palace and see if the Archbishop is capable of genuinely caring, Amen.
And also I pray for Jane Fisher in life after safeguarding, to destroy me as she did, mercilessly and permenantly, she can't be a very happy lady, so I pray that she feels happy one day. Amen
I pray for a revolution so that the invincible power in the Church of England is challenged and exposed, and people ask why a 'Christian' organization is able to be a law unto themselves and deceive and mislead the public and abuse the vulnerable so badly. In Jesus' Name, Amen
I pray for Bob and Ann Hill and family, I pray that Bob regains his voice.
'she has no voice, I speak for her'.
I pray for my friends, especially those I will see tomorrow at Church and for Christmas Day, and on Monday. And I pray for my beloved adoptive parents who have been amazing and wonderful and there for me every step of the way, I wouldn't have made it without you. God bless you, amen.
I pray for my work colleagues and customers, especially those I am parting company with in the New Year, I pray that my decision turns out good, and that if I have a chance, I will rejoin them later. Amen
I pray for my therapist, God give him patience! :) I pray that we can continue productive and helpful work in the New Year. Amen
I pray for the lady who lost her job for feeding a hungry school pupil. I pray that her kindness is rewarded. Amen
God help and bless everyone. Amen
Saturday, 19 December 2015
Sunday, 13 December 2015
Thursday, 10 December 2015
Tuesday, 1 December 2015
Saturday, 21 November 2015
Recounting memories to you of sitting in hospitals again. This, of course is always the saddest story, and I still cry:
You looked like you were just sleeping
dreaming of the playtimes of all your children
dreaming of the edge of the granite land
beside the ash tree and the endless road
Dreaming that you were young again
in a world less worn and polluted, more green and sweet,
you are a young man again, strong and proud
watching his children play in the sunshine
maybe you will stay there and remember
while the children who grew up and flew the nest
grieve, beyond you happy dream
and I fly above the granite land where we played
and away from you forever, into my own endless darkness.
So I sat there while you lay in the hospital bed.
You didn't seem like you any more and yet you did seem like you as well.
But you weren't really there any more.
You looked like you were just sleeping, but you never woke.
I sat there and hated myself, for having gone away, for not having been there for you. For letting someone else call himself my father so that he could abuse me, just because I had remained afraid of you and the family
In the end, in your last year, we got on OK and you tried to help me out. And that made it feel worse as I sat there. Because I felt I had failed you in every way. I was being shunned and vilified by people who really believed that me reporting abuse was worse than their dishonestly and deceit and abuse. I was in hell, and I felt that you were going to heaven.
I felt what I tend to feel these days, that anyone who gets to leave this world now before it gets worse is almost lucky.
That is an extreme thought but my life has been so dark for so long and already had been when I sat beside you alone when they switched your life support off.
It was three days, and I had to fly back to Jersey in the meantime as there was no-one and nowhere to turn to for help.
Please Mr God
I just want to talk to him
I'll only keep him a while
please Mr God,
I just want to tell him goodbye
tell him Goodbye
Come home Bob: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DGGJbwmhIZ8
This little thing from twitter reminds me, so much of the Jersey Deanery's Bible-based evil: